


Dragon Age II: Flesh and Blood (Part 1/?)

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Adoption, Elf, Epilogue, M/M, Tevinter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Kirkwall, Hawke and Fenris travel the Imperial Highway on their way to Cumberland. Along the way they find the wreckage of a carriage and a small child left orphaned. With no other option, Hawke and Fenris decide to care for the girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Age II: Flesh and Blood (Part 1/?)

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Flesh and Blood  
>  **Fandom:** Dragon Age 2  
>  **Pairing:** M!Hawke/Fenris  
>  **Rating:** T  
>  **Warnings:** mention of violence and death
> 
> Work in progress! But here's part one for everyone. :)

They were on their way to Cumberland, along the Imperial Highway, when they spotted the wreckage over the cliffside. Both Fenris and Hawke were too exhausted to fully examine the wreckage; after all, traversing the Vimmark Mountains was no small feat. They had made camp about three miles east of the road, not because of the Guard that sometimes patrolled, but because along the Imperial Highway Fenris feared Magisters. Even years after Danarius’ death, years of living as a free man, Fenris had a deep terror of the Magisters, tempered only by Hawke’s assurance that any Magister or slaver that attempted to capture him would be met by a fireball to the face.

Fenris edged closer to the cliff, peering down at the wrecked carriage. He could make out a few bodies strewn across the rock littered bottom, two of them most likely adults, one the body of a child, fourteen or fifteen. Fenris shook his head, said something – Elven, Hawke guessed – and moved on. Hawke, though, took some time to stand at the edge of the cliff and examine the wreckage. Aside from the bodies – both of the people and the horses – he could see something small leaned up against the trunk of an oak tree. At first Hawke thought it was a bundle of clothes, or perhaps a satchel that had been flung from the carriage as it careened off the road – but on closer inspection he saw it was a person. A very tiny person leaned against the tree with their arms around their knees and their face hidden.

“Fenris,” Hawke called, “Fenris, there’s someone alive down there.”

Fenris peered over the edge, spotting the child against the tree. “Girl,” he said, “Four or five. When we reach Cumberland, we’ll send someone back for her.”

“That’s the reason I fell in love with you,” Hawke said, giving his lover a contemptuous look, “That big, warm, fuzzy heart of yours.”

“If you’re suggesting I go down there and retrieve her, you must be losing your mind. A small cliff is still a cliff, Riley, and I’m in no mood to break my neck.”

“Yes, well,” Riley muttered, shrugging out of his cloak, “Your heroism will be noted for future generations to revel in.”

“You cannot be serious,” Fenris said, “You intend to go down there.”

“She needs a healer,” Hawke said, “And unless you want me to send for Anders, I’m about the best hope she has right now.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Fenris muttered, “Just… be careful, would you?”

Hawke took a deep breath and edged closer to the side of the cliff. It was at least a forty foot drop, and aside from a few tangles of brush and knobby roots, there wasn’t much to grab hold of. Hawke was terribly afraid, and it was an amazing thing. Here was the man who had fought the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, who had risked the anger of the Prince of Starkhaven, who had led the mage rebellion that had set all the Circles of Thedas to rise up against their Templar masters, and he was afraid of a small cliff. He had fought High Dragons and the Carta and a thousand other creatures and nefarious people, yet that first step over the cliff remained one of his hardest.

He tipped a bit forward, already losing his footing, and Fenris grabbed hold of his shoulder, hauling him back. “You’re going to get yourself killed,” Fenris spat, “For a child who most likely is going to die with or without your aid. You need to choose your heroic acts more carefully, Hawke. You can’t save everyone.”

“No,” Hawke said, “Certainly not if I don’t try.”

Fenris looked at him with a mixture of irritation and affection. Hawke wasn’t sure if the latter outweighed the former, and it didn’t matter. After their years together, he was used to the look, and with the rough sigh that accompanied it. Fenris swore in Elven under his breath and crossed his arms over his narrow chest. An uneasy victory, but Hawke took it.

Hawke moved over the edge of the cliff again, only this time he managed to keep his feet under him. He took hold of a bush sprouting from the edge and slowly worked his way downwards. Every few feet there were more shrubs or tangled roots to grab hold of, but Hawke found himself mostly sliding down the cliffside, saved a nasty fall only by snatching hold of what he could and digging his boots down into the unstable earth.

“Hawke,” Fenris called, when Hawke was half-way down the cliffside, “Slow and steady. I know how you love to show off for me, but honestly, there’s no need.”

“Haven’t showed off for you in years, smart ass,” Hawke muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing, love,” Hawke called back, “Mind the edge, would you?”

There was a terrible moment where Hawke was stuck on the cliff, without another shrub or root to take hold of, twenty feet from the bottom. He swayed a little and sagged against the rock wall, looking up into the blue sky, and into Fenris’ eyes. Those eyes wanted to be stern, even reprimanding, but from a distance they seemed almost worried. Imagine that, Hawke thought.

“Be careful,” Fenris called down, “Riley, how do you intend on getting her _up_ here?”

Well, that was perfect. The elf always had a way of ruining everything with his relentless logic. It was a fine question, and one that Hawke didn’t have an answer to. He supposed the girl would just have to hang onto him tightly as he scaled the cliff, but one look at her proved that wasn’t going to be simple, or perhaps not even possible. One of her arms was bent at an awkward angle, broken most likely. Hawke approached her slowly, and when her head whipped up and her wide, terrified eyes fixed on him, he held up his hands and whispered to her. “It’s all right,” Hawke said, easing nearer to the girl, “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m here to help you.”

The girl started to cry, pulling her small, damaged body tighter against the tree. 

“Shh,” Hawke quieted, “Shh. It’s all right, I—“ 

For the first time, Hawke noticed the sharp point of her ears. If he’d been sure it wouldn’t have startled the poor thing more, he would have slapped his forehead and cursed himself a fool. Fenris should have been the one down there rescuing the child, the sight of one of her own people would have given her at least some comfort. 

“ _Avanna_ ,” Fenris called.

The girl’s ears perked at the word. She looked up the cliffside and saw Fenris. The shape of his body against the blue sky revealed little about him, but the word seemed enough. 

Hawke should have remembered the word for ‘hello’. He had been with Fenris long enough. But Fenris rarely spoke Tevinter, usually spouting out phrases only when he was drunk or especially irritated. Hawke repeated the word, gently, and stooped down in front of the girl. She couldn’t have been older than four, and she was covered in dirt and leaves and deep, nasty cuts. Hawke reached out to her, but stopped when she whimpered and pulled away from him.

“Sweetheart, I need to look at you,” Hawke said. He knew the girl wouldn’t understand, but when she stopped whimpering and curling herself tighter against the tree, he believed she did. Hawke touched her wounds tenderly, examining her as best he could in her position. “I need you to be brave now. Can you do that for me? I promise that this will only take a moment.”

The girl nodded slowly, trembling a little. Hawke healed her wounds as best he could. At first, the girl seemed frightened of his magic, twisting away from him and bearing her dislocated shoulder against the trunk of the tree. She mewled in pain and let Hawke do what he needed to after that. _Magisters_ , Hawke thought, but he didn’t say. To even whisper the word would have been a terrible mistake. If Fenris found out this girl had been a Magister’s property, he would march right up the Imperial Road to Tevinter and crush every Magister’s black heart they came across. A noble effort, to be sure, but Hawke was in no mood to be hanged, or to see Fenris collared.

If Anders had been there, he could have easily treated the girl, broken arm and all, and most likely carted her on his back up the cliffside like it was nothing. But Anders was a long way from Cumberland, and a long way from the Imperial Highway. In fact, Hawke’s earlier threats to summon the mage had been hollow. He had no idea where Anders was, and he doubted the man would be showing himself any time soon.

As it were, Hawke was not as proficient a healer, and he was forced to leave the girl’s arm as it was. In Cumberland he would find her a more adequate healer, but for the time being she was just going to have to live with one good arm. “Can you tell me your name?” Hawke asked.

For a long time the girl said nothing. Hawke assumed she either hadn’t understood him or didn’t feel like answering. It was only when she was in his arms, her one good arm looped around his neck, that she whispered into his chest, “Vanya.”

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Hawke said, “Do you know what happened to---“ He almost said ‘to your family’ but thought better of it. She was small and frightened and injured, the last thing she needed was to be subjected to the sight of her dead family. Then again, Hawke was sure she had seen, and he was sure she knew they were dead. She was small, but she wasn’t stupid. Instead of mentioning the people scattered around the wreckage, Hawke asked, “Do you know what happened to your carriage?”

“Bad man,” Vanya said. She started to cry, and Hawke shut up.

Scaling the cliff was much more difficult than descending had been. Once or twice, Hawke thought he was going to fall backwards, and succeed only in killing the girl he had been trying to save, as well as himself. But, he reminded himself, he had once battled his way through an ancient prison and slaughtered a Magister of Old, he couldn’t die down in a gully. It would be an ignoble end for someone of his greatness. In reality, Hawke only made it to the top by stopping every so often to readjust his footing and grab hold of the nearest root. Also, looking up at Fenris helped.

 _If you die down there_ , Fenris’ eyes seemed to say, _I swear to the Maker I will find a way to revive you just so I can kill you myself._

It certainly wasn’t poetry, but it spurred Hawke on nonetheless.

**

“Well, that was certainly one of the more idiotic things you’ve done,” Fenris said, when Hawke was at the top and resting on the side of the road. The girl was asleep in his arms, her face tucked into Hawke’s throat. Hawke thought about waking her, or shifting her a little, but when he looked at her tiny, broken body, he didn’t have the heart. “But there, you have your damsel, safe from distress, at least somewhat. Now, let’s continue.”

“What will we do with her?” Hawke asked, ignoring Fenris’ lack of concern and his smug attitude. Ignoring both was now second nature to him. “Her whole family is dead, and there’s no telling if we’ll find her any kind of shelter once we reach Cumberland.”

“You are the one who went down there,” Fenris said, “I assumed you had some kind of plan for what we’d do with the child once you saved her. But, of course, you’ve spared no thought for anything beyond being heroic.”

“Kiss my ass,” Hawke said. The words were a default for him, something he said whenever someone was grating on his nerves and he had run out of articulate words. This, as it just so happened, was quite often. Fenris laughed, and hunkered down beside Hawke. At least his good humor hadn’t entirely dried up. He looked at the girl cradled in Hawke’s arms pityingly. _Good_ , Hawke thought, _that tender heart of yours is still in there, no matter how much you try to bury it._

“There isn’t much we _can_ do,” Fenris said, finally deciding to answer Hawke’s question. “We’ll find her as best a place we can in Cumberland. I’m sure someone will take care of her.” Fenris sounded dubious though, as though he were trying to convince himself instead of his lover. He wondered what a small elven girl’s chances would be in such a city, in _any_ city, and he grew somber. Most likely she would find shelter in some ramshackle home filled with elven orphans. This close to Tevinter, she would most likely be forced into slavery. If not that, then she would be mistreated and abused until she was of an age to be a useful servant.

“She has the best chance with us,” Hawke whispered.

“Hawke,” Fenris said, sharply, “ _Don’t_.”

“Well, we’ll figure something out,” Hawke relented, “Until then… Come on, Daddy.”

Fenris sighed.

**

They passed guardsmen on their way along the Imperial Highway, not far from the entrance to Cumberland. They told them of the wreckage a few miles back, and asked what they could do with the girl. The guardsmen were green, barely past the point of shaving, and shrugged. Fenris cursed them as useless dogs in Tevinter and left them behind, with Hawke left to mutter insincere thanks before rushing to catch up with him.

Since she had awakened, Vanya had taken to Fenris. She refused to be placed on the ground and led by the hand, instead preferring to rest in Fenris’ arms and tug at his ears. Fenris grunted and sighed, but didn’t snap at the girl or tell her to stop. Hawke decided he was simply too exhausted. To believe that Fenris, too, had a soft spot for Vanya, was entirely out of character.

Cumberland was close enough to the sea where the weather remained mild. After coming from Kirkwall, Hawke was relieved to see it was a small town with a close, tight-knit community. Much like Lothering, he surmised, and the sharp clench of his heart told him he had still not found a way to let go of that small place. It hadn’t been much, but it had been home, and it had, at one time, been _whole_. For a while, it had only been the five of them, the Hawkes, living together and loving one another. And then the Blight had shown up and everything had changed.

But that was true for everyone. Hawke wasted no time pitying himself.

The first thing they did – after securing a room for the night and getting themselves and Vanya something to eat – was to find the girl a healer. They found an old man who looked just as likely to blow himself up as heal a wound, but he promised to be the best healer in Cumberland, if not in Thedas. He took Vanya from them and motioned them to wait outside. For Hawke, it was like an eternity passed before the man came back out and explained that Vanya would be fine.

“Where might we find a place for her?” Fenris asked. Hawke could tell he had been worried. He had paced the moment the healer had shut them out from Vanya. Now, though, he seemed eager to return to business as usual. It was typical. Anything too close to honest, naked emotion and Fenris was sent scrambling backwards, wanting only to be numb. 

“There is a home for orphans on the other side of town, Messere,” the healer explained, “Though Serah Barnes isn’t fond of taking in elves.” He cleared his throat and looked away from Fenris. “She’s a Tevinter lady, you understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” Fenris said, though it was closer to a growl. “Thank you.”

“What do we do now?” Hawke asked. While Fenris had no desire to take the child with them, Hawke doubted he would willingly hand her over to an orphanage led by a woman from Tevinter. He might as well have marched up to Tevinter and thrown the girl into slavery himself. 

“I do not know,” Fenris said, “It’s just… Riley, neither of us knows the first thing about caring for a child. I would just as soon leave her on the road with a dagger to defend herself, and you are more likely to get her drunk than anything else.”

“I resent that,” Hawke said, though he didn’t deny it.

“You can resent it as much as you like,” Fenris said, “The fact remains that we cannot care for this child. She needs someone stable, someone who won’t wander around with no constant home, fighting bandits and rescuing damned mages and riling up Templars and Maker only knows what other misery you plan on putting me through.”

Hawke stopped and turned to Fenris. They were in the middle of town, with people milling all around them, but the way Hawke looked at him the only person that Fenris could see. Well, aside from the small, tired child in his arms. Riley Hawke had never been a serious man (Fenris recalled he had once left a bag filled with dragonling dung on Aveline’s doorstep and set it aflame; when Aveline had caught him, Hawke had assured her it had been _funny_ and there was no need to beat him about the head with her shield) but he looked entirely serious now; almost _angry_.

“I want you to look at this girl,” Hawke said, “I want you to look at her closely. Look at how small she is, how weak she is, how she has no one in the world now who loves her, or who will care for her. And then I want you to look at _me_ , Fenris, and tell me you want to abandon her. Abandon her to this world that doesn’t give a _damn_ whether she lives or dies. Abandon her to this world that didn’t give a _damn_ whether you were collared or free.”

Fenris couldn’t pretend the words didn’t hurt, but they weren’t what troubled him. What troubled him the most was how Vanya looked up from Hawke’s chest and turned her eyes to him. When he looked at her, he could clearly see Varania – his sister – looking to him with her sad, tired eyes; “ _Will we ever be free, Leto? Will we ever be able to stay together and be happy_?”

There was too much pain in her eyes, too much for Fenris to handle. He raised his eyes to Hawke’s, hoping for some reprieve, for some kind of understanding, but Hawke remained implacable. 

_She is not my responsibility_ , Fenris wanted to say, _I never asked to be burdened by her. This is your mess, Hawke, you are the one who decided she needed saving_. 

Fenris couldn’t say those things, because he knew they weren’t true. It wasn’t Hawke’s altruistic nature that had demanded he go to Vanya, it was the simple fact that he had seen enough death and ignoble ends. They had _both_ seen far too much destruction and senseless violence. Hawke didn’t want to see another child left along the wayside, just another number in a forever increasing body count. 

“No,” Fenris said. His voice was raw, scratchy. “No, I don’t want to abandon her. What I want is for her family to be alive. What I _want_ is for the two of us to be--- _Somewhere_ , Hawke.”

“We will be,” Hawke said. He reached out with his free hand and touched Fenris’ shoulder, squeezing gently. “Someday, Fenris; I promise you that. Right now, we’re here, and right now, _she needs us_.”

Fenris couldn’t argue with him. Aside from that fact that Hawke was right, he had always found it increasingly difficult to argue with him. 

“And where do we go from here, _Champion_?” Fenris asked.

“From here? Back to our room to rest. After that? You know me, love, wherever the wind blows me.”

“And you believe this child will benefit from this nomadic lifestyle of ours?”

“I’d say I’m a safer bet than being a Magister’s dog,” Hawke said, “At least slightly. Now come on, people are starting to stare. Let’s not make a scene.”

Fenris sighed and followed after Hawke with his head down.


End file.
